All Yours
by Jehilew
Summary: Romy take a REAL honeymoon, and it finally sets in for Rogue that they just got their sunset! AU continuation of Mr. & Mrs. X #8, canon compliant.
1. Chapter 1

**_HawkLeBeau_, a birthday fic for you!! I actually had not intended to go smutty here, but 1), Rogue is a dirty hoe-bag with her nasty-rat husband and can't control herself, and 2), hi, you know me. Anyway, all the love to you, my dear friend:)**

——•oOo•——

I slowly stretch awake to a cool breeze, the soft touch of early morning sun, and luxuriant bedding, and then shiver right back under the covers and into the delicious warmth of the man laid out on his belly beside me. It ain't terribly cold or anything, but when you're buck-ass naked, half out of the covers, and literally waking up in a sunrise on a misty island heaven, it can feel downright chilly!

It's alright though. Remy's practically a ragin' hellfire furnace, and he's a snuggler, to boot. True to form, I wiggle my side into his, and he smacks his lips, mumbles something completely unintelligible, and reaches out to snatch me down under his arm.

"Mornin' to you, too, Cajun," I lean in and giggle quietly into his cheek, droppin' barely-there kisses in between every word. "Didn't even open your eyes then, didja?"

He doesn't stir at my whispered teasing, eyelids not even twitching, heavy, black lashes restin' still on his cheeks.

It's unfair, _disgusting_, really, just how pretty his lashes are. He wouldn't have made a pretty girl, not at all with those sharp features, but his eyes would've almost made up for it, and it ain't _fair_. Especially to us gals who gotta use Maybelline to fake havin' lashes at all!

Not that I'm _really_ complainin' about no lashes, I ain't lackin'. It's just that I'm a redhead, and redheads don't have lashes til you put some color on 'em, you know?

I smile at him, and gently bump my nose against his. "It's alright shug," I whisper, "you keep those pretty eyes closed, and keep right on sleepin'. Me, I'll just check out this view a while, hm?"

I ease up on my elbows, careful not to awaken him, and stare out over the paradise before me. And a paradise, it is! An open, bamboo-built villa, situated on a gorgeous island in Bali. The place easily sleeps eight people, but Remy booked the whole joint so we could have this entire end of the island all to ourselves. And right now, snuggled up in fluffy bedding on a huge hammock hung out past the master bedroom balcony, I can feel that utter seclusion in a seemingly endless view of misty jungle and serene beach spread out before me.

Some might say it's a roughin' it trip, staying off the grid like this, with nothin' to really keep the bugs out and where it rains everyday, and they might say it's real boring with nothin' to do. They might say it's a drag to travel some ways to buy food just to cook our own meals, or travel even further to try a local restaurant. They might also laugh themselves silly at the notion of me and Remy soaking up having nothing else and no one else around to occupy time away from _us_.

And I'd say they were dead-ass wrong on all accounts. It's the best thing me and Remy have had in a long time. Probably ever. Nothing at all between us, nowhere to go for distractions. Everything slowed down to sort out things done too fast. Just us. Just days on no schedule, no life-or-death catastrophe. Just beaches, sun, rain, culture when we venture out, talks about anything and everything, and sex.

Oh my god, _lots_ of that. My _lord_, I'm no stranger to Remy's appetite, we'd experimented in the early days, and then I'd absorbed him and everything in his pretty head a time or two, then there was California, Paraiso, and after… And he's always been an incredible lover. Attentive, intuitive, high drive, and ever willing to please. But nothin' in the world coulda prepared me for this. Being so _open_, and knowin' it's for _keeps_…

I remember people tellin' me back in the day he was trouble, that he was a rollin' stone, a cheater, a womanizer, a heartbreaker. And yeah, he was all of those things, lord knows, Remy ain't no saint. But one thing they always said about him, that he ain't the marryin' kind, just isn't true. He never gave a damn if it came as marriage or not, that boy's been lookin' forever for a family to squeeze himself into, to belong to. Now, he ain't _easy_ to fit in anywhere, he's his own brand of dramatic, he has his own issues, and it takes _gettin_' him, _lovin_' him, bad parts with the good, and lettin' him love you back to give it to him. But you do all that? You pass? _Hoooo_, you done got yourself a loyal Remy for life.

That first part, lovin' him, understanding him, I ain't ever had a hard time doing that, not really. I've loved that man always, and we've click-clacked jam-tight from day one. The second part, now, _that_ took me clear into the rough first few weeks of our marriage. Wasn't til we touched down here, and let the absolute peace and quiet set in that I finally let my shit go, all the insecurities with him, with everyone, all the hidden resentment, anger and feelings of abandonment, and started really lettin' him in that we started to bloom.

And it's amazing, absolutely _amazing_, and one hell of a honeymoon, if you ever ask me. I've got a best friend, lover, husband, teammate, and other half all in one, I'm in literal paradise, I'm gettin' spoiled about every turn, and I'm gettin' _incredible_, _toe_ _curling_, _seein_'-_stars_, _screamin_'-_his_-_name_ sex practically on demand.

All certainly better than the awkward, stilted honeymoon after a rushed on-again mission and stolen wedding, hijacked by Kitty all the same, and then crashed by the Shi-Ar.

I'm content as my thoughts turn down that path. Outer space, Charles' kid, the (again, _hijacked_) party. Mojo bullshit.

_Control of my power._

I still can't believe that one. Spent half my life unable to really connect with anyone, and then only half of that realizing what I was missin' out on, all thanks to the man snoozin' next to me.

Fitting, that he gets to reap the rewards in the end. He certainly did his time and threw his heart into it. And Remy, it might take you a minute to see it, but he's always been all heart.

I glance back over him, a dumb, soft smile all over my face that he's missin' for sleeping in. He'd helped me on the control thing. Not so much in actually _doing_ anything, that'd all been me, doing the grunt work. But in terms of support? Remy was my goddamn _rock_. And a remarkably good source of focus and distraction whenever I'd needed either of them.

Spiral'd started the whole thing in Mojoworld. I'd thought I was broken, when in reality, I was just carryin' around a motherload of insecurities, piled on with helplessness, bitterness, jealousy, and depression, all enabled with bad fixes and misplaced sympathy from others. I'd made lots of headway then, and me and Remy had gone home with him not needin' the bracelet to stay alive, and me not needin' it to touch a little bit.

Not a lot of touch, not a first. I could touch him a few minutes at a time, and then I'd hone in on it 'cause it felt good and I was excited and nervous, and zap him. Little by little, touch by touch, hands held by hands held, kiss by kiss, I got to where I could touch him for hours at a time. And it was incredible, being able to snuggle up with him on the couch, in bed, and just touch him _casually_.

Of course, none of it was casual for me, and turns out, that was part of my problem.

Frustratin' as hell, is what it was, 'cause I couldn't make love with him, not without the bracelet. We'd get as far as heavy kissing, touching for pleasure, and as soon as things got intense…_zzzzzzt_!

It'd gotten to a point where I was startin' to regress a little. That's when he'd suggested we go on a trip, a real honeymoon, somewhere remote, luxuriant, disconnected from our life. No bracelet, no pressure, no stressors past bitchin' about getting sand in weird places.

I'd jumped all over it, left the bracelet at home, and it'd been a dang blessing. First night, we'd holed up in this here hammock, just hangin' out, I guess. Turned into a thing of talking, snuggling, touchin', no intent behind anything, and we'd stayed up til the sun burned off the night's mist, then slept half the day away.

Next night, after an afternoon of exploring the island, we'd gone much the same way, and while the touches remained light, the talks went more serious, talkin' futures and so on. Even went into the whole kids thing, when I told him I can't have any 'cause of the terrigen mist.

That'd been a _huge_ thing, tellin' him that. He likes kids, wants kids of his own, and I can't give him any. Of course, he'd figured as much, since it's long known that's a thing with the mist and mutants, but sayin' it out loud…

Anyway, that'd been the gateway topic. Seemed like after that, all the shit I'd bottled up kept comin' out. Not in a big, nasty all-at-once kinda way, just that it kept comin' up as we talked at this time and that one. Real chill about it. I'd _wanted_ to tell him. And you know? It ain't even been that painful, not once I started doing it. And he'd reciprocated, and then next thing we'd known, after nearly a week of deep, complete relaxation, we were _clear_, and I could _touch_.

Blows my mind that all these years, all I'd had to do was unclench a little. Quit thinkin' about it, 'cause when I'd thought about it, I'd thought about how I couldn't control it, how it'd controlled me, and then I'd panic. That'd spun the whole thing into a perpetual downward spiral straight to a literal bottom, where I was killin' the man I loved over and over without even touchin' him (didn't matter that it was in Mojo Land, I'd still done it, I'd still felt it, and so had he).

Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy!

Remy starts movin' next to me, and I glance over out of my musings to watch the crisp white bedding fall away and show off the tanned expanse of his torso, shoulders, and arms. I lick my lips and reach out to touch him, running my hand along his spine as the muscles of his back flex in a long stretch. He hums low and thick in his throat with pleasure, and rolls to his side, back to me, arching into my hands.

God, he's _gorgeous_. Every ounce on that man's six feet and two inches long body is gorgeous. Even the puckered up scars littering his skin from tip to toe. Prime nibbling spots right there if you ask me; he tends to scar up big and ugly, and they're sensitive. I wanna lick every one of them right now, and other places besides, and—

You know what? To hell with lettin' him sleep in, he can take a nap _after_. I want him _right now_, and I already gotta thing in mind that has my mouth watering up (other places, too, heh).

"Mornin', for _real_ this time, you sexy-ass Cajun," I lean over and purr along the plane of his shoulder blade, my hand sliding down over his ribs.

Goosebumps ripple up across his skin, and he stirs as I smile around open mouthed kisses down his back til I hit a particularly sensitive scar just above his kidney. It's all tight, still kinda red, and puffed up. He's got a matchin' mark on his front, and a slip of my hand over his obliques tells me that scar is still tender, too.

What's left over from a stab he'd taken in space, that. He's got a decent enough healin' factor, but it's coupled up with a tendency toward overproduction of all that scar tissue. The wound had healed quickly, but the scar's still red, and it still bothers him. I'm gonna have to rub his tante Mattie's salve on later on, massage it in real good and break the tissues down a little, see if I can't loosen that shit up a bit.

But not right now. I got _plans_ for right now.

A soft suck on the puckered up flesh and a light lick, a lower slip of my hand between his legs, and said plan is in action. He's already fillin' up my grip, and after a few good tugs on him, he's gone heavy and ready for me.

I start kissing along his ribs, scrapin' teeth along the crests and lickin' into the dips, working him in my hand the whole while. His breath hitches and catches in his sleep a couple of times, his lips part, and his lashes flutter a bit on his cheeks in response, and it takes everything in me to keep my pace and not jump right in and eat him alive.

"_Damn_, Remy," I growl softly across his skin, nip over his hipbone, "once I get down on you, I'mma suck you so good, suck you in tight and swallow you down, sugar."

And I meant every word of what I just said, too, 'cause I'm starin' down at him, all swelled up in my hand, already slick at his tip, and hot damn, he's beautiful, _delicious_, and _all mine_.

Smacking my lips again, I lean over his hip and breathe kisses down the V into his groin. He twitches in my hand as I continue over his balls with lazy licks and a long, wet kiss planted at the start of his dick. I can smell the heat off his skin, can taste last night all over him, and it's a wild as all hell turn-on, if I'm gonna be honest.

I'd blame his psyche upstairs for rubbin' his grossness off on me, except I had me some _fantasies_ of my handsome Cajun long before I ever got ahold of him.

One of those fantasies is actually this right here, me wakin' him up in my mouth. I'm hopin' he stays asleep til he's close (not banking on that one, but the man _did_ wear himself out yesterday and last night, so??), 'cause I wanna see his expression when he opens his eyes and realizes he's about to blow his nuts out in my face.

"See how long you stay out of it, Cajun," I laugh softly over him, givin' a lick to make him instinctively tilt his hips up for more.

And I let him have it. I lean over his hips a little further, suck him in and suck him tight, pulling in deeper and rubbing him with my tongue. He shifts restlessly, and I pull off to move around, pushing his leg out til he's rolled on his back, and opened up for me to go in again.

It doesn't take him long from there. It never does, boy's gotta _thing_ for oral, and it ain't any time all before his eyes fly open and he's twisting one hand in the sheets, the other in a handful of my hair, and a low, harsh groan is scrapin' up out of his throat.

"_H-hohhh_, g-goddamn," he gasps out, every muscle from his navel clear to his knees skakin' and twitchin', his heels digging into the bedding, his toes flexing and curling. I hum a little over him, hands all over him, nails scraping the inside of his thighs to make him hiss, writhe, and push my face into him, all one hundred eighty pounds of him strung tight and straining. "Ch-chere—_uuuooooooh_ fuck!"

I slide my arms over his hips and under him, grabbing at his back with one hand, his ass with the other, holding him to me, in my mouth as he finishes. He pants my name, hand heavy on my head, and shudders ripple up his back til he's done.

Feeling the tension melting out of him, I gradually let up til he's left wrung out, eyes closed, drifting off as he catches his breath. I slowly pull off and crawl up til I'm straddling him, hands on either side of his head. His eyes blink open, red irises bright and still a bit dazed, and his mouth is already pulling into the dopiest smile he's worn in a while.

Pretty sure last time I saw one of these smiles was after we got hitched, right after that _kiss_. God, that'd been a helluva kiss, one he'd stolen before the rabbi had even finished introducing us as Mr. and Mrs. And Remy, ever the romantic that he is, he'd even popped his foot, too!

Anyway, seein' him so dang relaxed, happy, and satisfied is the stuff to spin my world, and I can't help but feel a little _smug_ that I made him that way.

"Hey, you," I flirt down at him, grinning wide. "I see you finally decided to open up them pretty eyes."

He softly snorts away the compliment and reaches for me, flattening me out on his chest. "Feel free to open _me_ up like this anytime y' want, chere. I don't mind it one bit."

I sink my fingers into his hair, thumbs rubbin' those impossibly high cheekbones. "I'll just bet you don't, shug," I laugh softly at him, "and I just might do that. Does you some good to completely lose it every now and again, keeps you humble, hmm?"

His eyes flick open again, this time with a glint in 'em I know all too well, and I won't lie, boy just got my pulse hoppin'. "That so?" He asks silkily, hands clapping loudly over my ass, "sound like maybe someone's in need of bein' put back in her place. An' that place," he pauses to fight off a yawn, trying to mask it by flippin' us over, "is mos' _definitely_," the yawn tries him again, and I snort loudly at him as he plugs along anyway, "mos' _definitely_ under my—_goddammit_," he curses as his face contorts in a decided loss to said yawn.

I nearly die laughin' up at him, and yank his drowsy ass down flat on me. "Bitch, _be humble_," I tease him, smoochin' his cheek before wriggling up in the hammock so I got his pillow under my head, and his head on my chest. "You can put me in my place under your _whatever_ when you actually got the energy to do anything with your _anything_."

"Mmm-hm, you jus' wait, chere," he murmurs rather menacingly into the side of my breast, despite being about this close to passin' out. He drags a lick clear up over my nipple, gives me a rough lap of his tongue, and I shiver right up into his mouth, my fingers already back in his hair. "I'm about to destroy you in the most absolute and thorough ways, chere." He gives a sharp, fast nip of his teeth, making me suck in my breath and slide my legs around his ribs, 'cause— "and _then_ we'll see who's a humble bitch, yeah?"

"_Pffft_! Go back to sleep, Cajun," I double down and tease him some more, swatting him off my boobs. "Me, I'm just gonna go back to the insane scenery while Sleepin' Beauty gets his rest—"

He moves swift and cuts me off with a kiss that starts out hard enough to curl my toes, then he gentles it, slow, sweet, and deep, a luxuriant sweep of his tongue against mine, a sensual move of his lips over mine. He breaks away, but doesn't move back, keeps foreheads together and noses bumpin', and I lean in for another kiss, another taste, tryin' to pull him down on me, maybe _in_ me if he's hard again—

"Tha's about t' be how your pussy gets it, Anna-Marie LeBeau," he murmurs low and rich, his gaze never leavin' mine as he slips his arms under me and easily slides me up to him, his eyes a goddamn light show, his expression utterly wicked. "So you do this, chere," he runs his hand up between my breasts, up over my throat, and gently pushes my jaw back til my head's back over the edge of the hammock. "You spread your pretty legs wide open for me," his hand falls back and the hammock creaks as I open up and he settles down between my thighs, "and you push them gorgeous tits up in my hands," said hands drag over my breasts, palms both calloused and smooth rubbin' my nipples til I'm arched up for him and ready to scream at him, "and you look out over all that _insane scenery_ while I go down," he pauses to kiss me so close, I clench up and lift my head to watch him, 'cause _god_, he's _good_ at this, and I love him, and I wanna watch him— "and eat you out good, beb, suck you off and clean you out. Think maybe you'd like that, chere?"

"Y-yes, yes, I think I would," I manage, noddin' at him enthusiastically like a complete moron, _god_, I can't even breathe, I want him so dang bad—

"Mm-hm, that's good, chere," he answers with a slow lick that makes me fall back to hang my head off the hammock, hissing and digging my hands in his hair. I ain't even sure if he meant my answer or me, but— oh god, _oh my god_—"_ohhhhhhh_ damn, Remy, that, _that_, that _right there_—"

And just like it didn't take him long, it doesn't me, either. And I'd say that gettin' off with the absolute love of your stupid life in utter paradise, completely secluded in a vast panoramic view of stunning tropics and beach and cerulean waters (even if it is upside down, but _whatever_) is just about as good as this life or the next one can possibly get, but I'd be wrong.

Nah, the best was _before_, when we'd finally gone through all the hard shit, and all that was left was the two of us, stripped bare, wide open, and lettin' each other in. _All the way _in. Realizin' I love him so dang much, and that he loves me still, in spite of the absolute ass I'd been about the whole thing for so long. Realizin' that it really _is_ enough, and all I had to do was trust in it, trust _me_, trust _him_, and hold to it tight. And finally havin' figured it out, that so much of me just lettin' the shit out, and lettin' him in, and realizin' that he's offering the same, was what it took to gain control…

Yeah, _that_ was a beautiful moment. One to go down in the books, for sure.

The best part is also _after_. When aforementioned absolute love of your stupid life comes up, a content, almost boyish, smile softening his features, and he drops a kiss on your face, teases you mercilessly about how _humble_ you look, and then snuggles down into the covers with you. And then y'all both are completely wrapped up in each other, and neither of you are quite ready to let the moment go, the teasing, the laughing, the sexiness, the intimacy. And then you both start driftin' off, droppin' lazy last kisses over warm scented skin, runnin' slow hands lightly over each other. And then your eyes close, and it's _okay_, 'cause you're both gonna be _right there_, just like _this_, when you wake up in a bit, and y'all are gonna go home like this, too.

Because it's _all yours_.

——•oOo•——

**Alright. Well! That's them. This was a fic that had no plan, it kind of just wrote itself from a gorgeous picture of a couple in Bali, a deliciously smutty scene written in chapter 3 of Ludi's '96 Hours', and all in the flow of Rogue's thoughts. Riley, I hope you enjoyed her, she was enjoyable to write:)**

**(btw, the hammock situation is real, and the location here is a mash up between two areas near Ubud and the island of Nusa Dua Bali—go to my Pinterest, ((Jehilew)), and the board named after this fic to see visuals)**


	2. All Ours

**So this is that second night I'd mentioned in the previous chapter. Rogue's infertility is actually a headcanon of mine, and I've been thinking about writing about it for some time. I knew as soon as I'd written the earlier chapter that this would soon follow. And what better to do with it than gift it to my lovely friend, _lifeseverchanging_! Happy belated birthday, I love you to bits, my dear, I do hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it for you!**

_**HawkLeBeau**__**: **_**Ah! Thank you so much for the review, I'm so glad you liked this! If I could send you heart emojis here, I would:) And _yes_, you and your wife absolutely _should_ take a vacation like this;)**

**_Random-Gaurdian_: OMG, no Galactus on a neighboring island, hahahah! Let these two honeymoon in peace! ;) Happy to hear that you enjoyed it, though!**

**_Ludi_: Lady, you make me _blush _with all your sweet review, I swear! But yes, I feel like at this point, any grand gestures out of Rogue need to be in professing her undying love to Remy, and her power control needs to be something she overcomes on her own, and that it needs to be something that just clicks into place for her. A natural thing springing from letting her mess go! Anyway, I'll stop before I get to philosophical, lol. **

**_Bustedflipflop_: Yeah, describing that damn hammock was a challenge, but I saw it on Pinterest, so it _had_ to make it into this thing! Too bad ffn is dumb and won't do links or images. Or emojis, for that matter...**

_**Guest**_: ….**BISH DICK. **_**Bish dick, Bish dick, Bish dick, Bish dick. **_**I understand that Rogue getting **_**railed **_**by Bishop's dick and sucking his nuts out **_**dry **_**on the regular in my pal's, _Ana_ _Xpert_, fic, '**_**Breaking The Hold**_' **is triggering, his dick **_**is **_**very impressive! So, you're forgiven your addled comments to her fic and mine, I understand! :)))**

* * *

—•oOo•—

"You think maybe we could just _move_ out here, sugar?"

I lean over and drop a kiss on the bared shoulder of the man stretched out on his belly beside me, takin' a moment to linger. Savor the taste and texture of his smooth, sun-deepened skin. Reveling in it, more like, like I ain't been doin' just that since we got here yesterday. "Can you just imagine it? Every night's a night like this, just you and me on a big-ass hammock in paradise?"

"Yeah? Jus' like this? In _this _big-ass hammock, chere?" Remy smooches the top of my head and shrugs a little, his movement givin' up a warm puff of his delicious scent from under the covers. "Mais, I could ask the guy about sellin' this place, but—"

I laugh and gently shoulder bump him. "Not _here_, as in, _this house_, oh Smart One, I meant let's just find us a pretty place around here, all to ourselves and move in." I lift my head and look out over the misty expanse of tropics below. "And I was only kiddin', anyway."

"Hmmm," he hums, rolling to his side face me, propping up on an elbow, "was you, though? That didn't sound much to me like a 'kiddin' kinda question, Anna-Marie."

I shrug with a nonchalance I'm not really feelin', keeping my gaze outward. It's a stunning view, tropical Bali greenery, hazy with a fine rolling mist, so it's a somewhat believable stall.

I can't help it, as peaceful and gorgeous as this place is, and as perfect as _he_ is, and as _good_ as I have things right now, it's… Well, it's just _a lot_. And so is this shaky future we're walkin' into.

I ain't ever been good at futures anyway.

"Nah, I was only jokin'," I finally answer him. "Besides," I add throwing him a wry smile, "beautiful and relaxin' as all this is, we'll be bored outta our skulls in no time at all, huh?"

He's not fast to respond either, just calmly watches me for a moment, then reaches over to run the back of his fingers along the side of my arm.

I glance down at his touch, watching his movements. I swear, everything about the man is mesmerizing. For someone his height and build, he's _unreasonably_ graceful, thanks in part to his mutation, thanks in large to intense, nearly a lifetime of conditioning and just plain havin' a knack for it. Couple that up beautiful hands, hands wide, scarred, and calloused, with long, sensitive fingers, and it's no damn wonder I'm scootin' over just a little closer for more.

I might be just a _tad _addicted to him, and I just might be missing a certain _kind_ of touch from him, heh. All things considered, including the fact that both of us are completely starkers, and we can touch, we can kiss, and we can snuggle, but we can't _fuck_, who the hell can blame me?

I close my eyes and just breathe. Focus on the pleasure of his touch. Bend my mind away from my power, and let the calm of this place seep in deep. That's how I'm able to lay here naked next to my lover without killin' him, is to hone in on my senses.

Heh, if you stop and think about it, controllin' my power isn't terribly different from dealin' with an anxiety attack when it hits you, you zero in on the world around you, and not the bullshit you're feelin'.

"You know, chere," he begins in a tone so warm, _rich_, it sends delicious zips up my spine and flutters my eyes open, "we ain't gotta live in _absolute _seclusion to have it like this, yeah?"

I glance up at him, feelin' my nerves titter. It's the intensity he can bring that sometimes gets to me. Not _bad_, that intensity, just… I don't know, scary, maybe? Scary, 'cause I'm always at least half convinced I can't meet up to it? I can't… "Whatcha mean, shug?"

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling up in such way as to give him a boyish quality (which is flat ridiculous, if you ask me, 'cause one, my husband is all _man_, nothing boyish about him, and two, to see that look on him is utterly heart melting). "Mais, I'm jus' sayin' there's lotsa places to go that are just as beautiful, where it's close enough to all the shit we do if we wanna do it, but it's still just _us."_

And there he did it, he got to the heart of what my dumb ass couldn't articulate. It wasn't that I wanted to live _here_, it wasn't that I was afraid of not havin' _distractions_.

I want what _we_ have right now. What we've had since we got here. Hell, yesterday? We walked into this place, we _ooooooh_'d and _aaaaaah_'d over everything, the scenery and all that, and then we walked into the master bedroom, took one look at the fluffy bed, then another at the hammock extending the balcony, and then at each other, grinnin' like idiots. Didn't take us long at all to call the hammock home, dragging bedding out on the balcony and scarin' up plates of fruits and cheese outta the fridge, and the complementary bottle of champagne out of the well-stocked mini bar (bless the owner for remembering it's our honeymoon). We'd shucked our clothes and hopped right in, wound up spending the night just spendin' time with each other.

It'd been a great time, if I'm being honest. And I know we're here for three weeks, but I'm already feelin' a little like we're only on borrowed time. 'Cause once it's over, then _what_?

That's the scary part. I don't know what the _what_ is, or if I can even do it. I never been able to before, and…

Well, anyway. Yeah, leave it to Remy to cut right to it. And he even said it like everything is our choice, _if we wanna do it_.

Can we really just..._go away_, and _be gone_ like this if we want?

Oh, for heaven's sake, I don't even know what my nerves are goin' on about, we're _here_, right now, _very_ naked, a little sunburned (okay, _I'm _a little sunburned—he's just darker) from a day at the gorgeous beach not too far off, and we're still just chillin' together, a repeat of last night. And it's _perfect_.

Granted, the talk just went a little serious, and I'm still maybe a little jittery over that, 'cause I know more future talk is on its way, but it's still _perfect._

I turn on my side to face him, smiling all stupid at him, reachin' for him ('cause I _swear_, I can't keep my hands off of him!), reveling in the feel of his skin, the crisp spring of hair on his chest, the planes and ridges of all those long, hard muscles beneath… _god_, I love him, never could quit him! "That right, Cajun? We could do that, you think? Find us a pretty place to go?"

He snorts and leans in for a quick kiss. "Chere, we can do exactly that. We can get us a place to _go_, we get us a place to _live_, we can be as available or unavailable as we want." He runs his free hand down the line of my body, slipping over my hip to cup my ass and pull me a little closer. "We can have places, _homes_, in different parts of the world, and we can vacation whenever, wherever we want." He comes in for another kiss, holding that one even longer, then gently breaks away, not going far, either. "This _our_ start, chere. This _our_ life, _all ours_. We do it our way, however that is, yeah?"

I nod stupidly at his promise, grinning even wider. "Sounds real good, Mr. Swamp Rat," I tell 'im, puttin' a playful lilt to my tone as I roll him over on his back and climb on him, "and you know what else sounds real good?"

"What's that, _Mrs_. Swamp Rat?" He flirts back and smiles lazily up at me as he tucks a hand behind his head. The movement ripples up so many muscles strung along his torso, I almost forget what I was gonna say, as busy as I am staring..._god_...he's beautiful, all the way down to his— "Chere? My eyes'r up here, yeah?"

I blink back up at his smirking face, and feel heat prickling that sunburn across my nose. Instead of snappin' at him like I mighta done not so long ago, though, I shrug and give him an unapologetic smile. "Yeah, shug, I was just thinkin' that makin' out with you sounded _real good_ right about now. Ya _wanna_?"

His smirk turn positively _wicked_, and his eyes flash bright as he loudly claps his free hand over my backside. "You even gotta ask? Git y' hot-ass self down here and kiss me a little while, chere."

_Hell yes_, I think I'll do just that!

—•oOo•—

It's a good while later, a _helluva_ make-out session later. And _he's _in a fantastic mood.

Me? Well, I'm…

I wiggle in a little closer to him, trying not to sour over the fact that my brain is scattered enough that I'd had to cut short that incredible make-out session.

I sigh a little, and I feel his lips in my hair, his hand lightly stroking along my back. It'd started out fun, that make-out, light kissing that'd gradually gone to heated, decidedly _sexier_ kissing, with bolder touches. And bless him, he was gettin' _close_, I had 'im in my hand, and he was panting, and I'd just gotten the notion to take him in my mouth, when my stupid brain was all '_hurrrrrrr, hurrr, fuck that power, look, I can think about it without killin' h—__**oh crap, nope, can't do that**_…'.

I'd torn myself off of him fast as I could, 'cause I know that's what brings on an absorption, that thinkin' that I can't touch without killing. It makes me panic, which brings on intrusive thoughts, and more panic… And then it's just a vicious cycle from there.

Remy's eyes had popped open soon as I'd jumped away, already figuring out what was going on. He'd scooped up the sheet over his hands and cupped my face, just calm as all get out while askin' what sounds I'm hearin', what smells I'm smellin', how the mist feels over my skin, and so on til I wasn't thinking about my power at all.

Soon as I was calm enough, and really thinkin' about how things around were makin' me feel as opposed to shit on the inside, I'd pulled the sheet out from between us, kissed his palms, and he'd smiled wide and pulled me back in. Snuggled me down in the covers with him, and we've been cuddled up and kissing a little since.

And it's _nice_, it's _great_, kissin' Remy ain't a thing to shrug off. Not to me, anyway. And I ain't necessarily _unhappy_, either. It's been a fun night to top off a fun day. It's just…

Well…

I'm kinda left with this feeling of inadequacy. Well, I don't guess _left with_ is right, it ain't like any experience with Remy makes me feel that way. It's more like that feeling is always there, always has been, quiet, niggling doubt, doubts that I can be what he's lookin' for, _needs_, and those experiences with him tend to expose those doubts in a remarkably painful way.

_I can't touch._

_I can't control my power._

_I can't communicate._

_I can't commit to anything._

_I can't relationship._

_I can't make him happy._

_I can't_...

I squirm a little bit against him, the doubts bubbling up so close to the surface, it actually kinda hurts.

"Whatcha thinkin', chere?" His voice rumbles up relaxed and _delicious _out of his chest, and I close my eyes and kiss him just above his nipple. Tryin' to figure out what to say, and maybe unlodge some of this insecurity now stuck in my throat.

'Cause I want to change some of those _can'ts_. I want to for me, and I really want to for _him_.

I didn't marry him just to suck at it so badly on purpose, he leaves. If he's gonna leave, I'd rather he did it for something I can't help than for something I can.

I pull in a deep breath, hope I have some words ready when I start talking, and then I just blurt something out. "You know I can't have kids, right?"

_Oh shit_...of all the things...oh my _god_, that's one of the worst ones…

I push back, look down at him. Lookin' for a flinch, a bitterness, _regret_… "You said earlier this was our start, and you started makin' plans about the future, but," I push on baldly, and I keep searchin' his handsome face for _something_, "those plans ain't gonna have kids in 'em."

His expression softens, and his ready smile turns a little sad, but his hands are still moving over me same as they were, long soothing strokes. "Chere, I already figured as much, after you was exposed to the terrigen mist."

I shake my head. "No, shug, I probably couldn'a had kids, anyway. At least, not the old fashioned way. That invulnerability, makes it real difficult for a pregnancy to stick."

I sit up and move away a little, feelin' more than a little _lacking_.

_Faulty_.

_Inadequate_.

_Broken_.

After all, having kids is the one thing I shouldn't have had any problem with. I certainly have the body for it, the supposedly fertile, curvy shape. And like, _everybody _can have kids. They _have_ to take birth control. Me…

I feel his hand run up my back, and drag back down in a gentle rub, and I close my eyes and focus on it.

_He'd figured I was sterile, and married me anyway_…

I glance over at him, watching his bronzed hand glide over my lily-white hip and thigh. It's kind of amusing to realize even my 'tanned' legs are still whiter than the jagged scar on the back of his hand. "Anyway, yeah," I finally add, "the mist obliterated whatever chances of babies we mighta had, shug." I bite my lip, and keep watching him. "I'm sorry I didn't say something before—"

"Non, chere, you stop that," Remy gently chides, and just like that, a whisper of movement, and he's pressed up behind me, arms pulling me back between his legs, flush to him, dropping a warm, lingering kiss on my shoulder. "Told you I already figured it, chere. Didn't know about the invulnerability issue, but everyone knows how terrigen mist affects mutants." He noses into my neck, sending shivers of pleasure up my spine at the soft puff of his breath, the bristly scratch of his stubble… "Figured if that's all that shit did to you, I'm a pretty fuckin' lucky man in the end."

"Lucky?" I ask over my shoulder, "shug, you ain't gotta play it down, I've absorbed you a time or two, I know you wanted babies of your own." I slump a little. "It's okay to be disappointed, you know? I was. _Am_."

"You turn around here, and you look at me, Anna-Marie," he commands in a low, gentle tone I'm absolutely _not_ about to fight. I do as he says, and he scoops me up so that my legs are around him, and he's got me comfortably sitting in a circle of long, lean, tanned arms and legs. Nose to nose, mouth to mouth, eye to eye.

"The day I found out you'd flown into a cloud of terrigen mist was the goddamn worst day of my life. And the day I found out you was takin' injections to save y' life was the best t' date of mine. And look at me now, eh? So yeah, I'm feelin' pretty damn lucky these days." His tone is even, his gaze steady, but I can tell the memory got him just now, with the tightening around his eyes, the little quick-fire flash in 'em. I curl my fingers into the ends of his shaggy hair, a touch I know he likes.

"Also," he continues with a snort, "you ain't gotta get all _dramatic _about it, chere. Actin' like doin' shit the 'old fashioned way' is the only way of doin' anything. You want babies? There's a literal fuck-ton of 'em out there, lookin' for mamas. Let's adopt a bit later down the road if y' want."

My eyes widen at him. 'Cause I'd thought about that, adoptin' a kid. Lots of times. If I hadn't been so screwed up all this time, and doing the kind of work I do, I'd have probably already taken a kiddo home by now, been a single mama and all. "You serious, Remy? You wanna adopt?"

He shrugs. "Don' see why not. You an' me, two kids what slipped through the cracks. Lost our parents, got adopted, and ditched again. Adoptin' a bus-load of kids." He grins at me, runs and hand down the curve of my thigh in such a way to make me scooch up a bit closer on him. "That story's gotta nice little ring to it, don't it?"

I close the inch between us for a fast, fierce kiss, and pull back with a sort of shy, excited smile. "It _does_! But maybe not an actual bus-load? I mean, I don't wanna drive a minivan—"

"Nah, chere, you be drivin' a literal _bus_. I can see y' now, one of the greats in the superhero world, drivin' a full-fledged, honest to goodness, yellow school bus of squabblin' kids to an' fro soccer practice, wearin' your 'soft pants' and A Bug's Life sunglasses, hair up twenty-four-seven, venti Starbucks coffee in hand—"

"Oh, _shut it_, Cajun," I laugh up from my toes and shove him playfully on his back, "and you call _me_ dramatic—"

"—We've already started on that bus, too, wit' Figaro, Lucifer, and Oliver—"

"Ugh, like we could ever get Fig and Oli in a bus, anyway. Also, did you know I was _so_ mad at you when I found out you'd named your dumb _cat_ Oliver?" I plop myself down on his chest, proppin' my chin on crossed arms, laughin' at myself, 'cause my reasoning is beyond stupid. "'Cause that was the name I'd picked out a _loooooooong_ time ago for a boy, if I had one."

He about dies laughin' into the side of my head, one of his hands already sinkin' into my hair, those long fingers lightly rubbing my scalp.

"Oh, shut up, Cajun, it ain't funny," I laugh right along with him, "Oliver was _supposed _to be a sweet little boy with his daddy's thick, cowlicky, auburn hair, and stunning red and black eyes, _not_ some asshole gray cat who pees in my shoes."

"Awww, chere, you was already thinkin' kids wit' me—_wait_—how long ago was it 'Oliver' was born—"

"I don't even _begin _to see how that's relevant information," I snip at him, dragging kisses up his throat and over his scruffy chin to his mouth, every intent being distraction. 'Cause not a _chance in hell_ am I tellin' him I'd had that silly, girlish little daydream back in the early days.

Not so very long after he'd shown up after Muir Island as a teammate, actually, which had been an utterly _cringeworthy _situation. I mean, the Eternal Virgin Who Can't Touch fallin' in love with the Seasoned Bachelor Ladies' Man Lothario? _Yikes_—

"I don' know, sweetheart, I find it _extremely _relevant, especially seein' as how you're awful busy tryin' to distract me from it," he laughs under my kisses, and honest to Jesus, I'm about this close to bitin' off his damn smartass tongue— "but it's okay, chere. I let you be about y' business if you'll do that thing wit' y' mouth and hands you did earlier, eh?"

"Shug, I didn't _do _anything with my mouth," I laugh at him, more than happy to slip a hand down between us while plantin' a kiss right over the cleft in his chin. "I sure thought about it, though," I tease him with a giggle and a series of kisses down his jawline. God above, I can't get over the texture of that scruff, how it'll feel so scratchy against my skin, but feel just a bit bristly against my lips.

Not to mention, that stubble is so dang _hot_, especially when he—

"I _know _you thought about, chere," he smirks, "I watched where you was headed wit' that look in them pretty green eyes, and I very nearly lost my shit watchin' you stare and smack y' lips—"

"Like this right here, shug?" I drawl at him, then drag my eyes down his utterly mouthwatering body, _alllllll_ the way down to watch myself work him up, and then I lick my upper lip long and slow, like I want to eat him up (which, it ain't an act—I _do_).

"_Hoooo_," he breathes dramatically, that grin on his beautiful face positively _drippin_' with sin, "yeah, sweetheart, that'll do—_oh shit, _chere—!"

I shut him up with a _nice_ series of strokes, just the way he likes it best, and an unhurried lap of my tongue. Which naturally kicks off a good time that won't last long yet, 'cause my power naturally cockblocks in all the worst ways, but ya know what?

It ain't so bad! I'm not drainin' him just being beside him anymore. I've regained what control I'd slid back on prior to comin' out here. So, hey, all that right there is good stuff, _control_! Hell, and I'm wrapped up in a light, fluffy bed with him in a tropical heaven, _naked_, and even if I have to stop for a minute, the very next, we're back at it again, laughin', teasing, snuggling, kissing, and _more_ for a little while. So, nah, it ain't bad at all!

And you know what else?

As I lay here, on a big-ass hammock in paradise with the once-in-a-lifetime love of my life, just hangin' out and makin' out til the sky starts brightening in a gorgeous sunrise, I can't help but feel like I'd also kissed off a piece of angst from outta my head for good. I feel ten pounds lighter, ten years younger, and not _so_ _far_ off from the silly, giddy little thing I was back in the day, daydreamin' about a beautiful kiddo named Liv, with coppery brown hair and firefly eyes just like the handsome man that everyone kept warnin' me against.

Maybe that handsome man is right, and this is our start. I mean, we actually started back in Paraiso, started for _keeps_, and then we sealed a whirlwind romance with an even whirlier engagement and a stolen wedding. But this trip so far seems...I don't know...more _us_ than anything we've done since we got back together. No mind control, no impulsive rush of emotions…

I snuggle in a little closer to my drowsy Cajun, shivering at the slight chill of a cool, wet morning, and close my eyes with a dumb smile all over my face. 'Cause he _is_ right, as per usual when it comes to us.

This _is_ our start. This _is_ our life, _all ours_. And we'll do it _our_ way, however that is.


End file.
